The Haunted Traveler Vol. 1 Issue 1

of the college environment. A WASP to her bones, she barely
opened her lips when she spoke. She laid claim to having
one of her ancestors on the Mayflower. And oh yes, she harbored
a profound dislike for me. Perhaps “dislike” is too mild
a term? Resentment would be closer to the mark. My feelings
for her and my opinion of her fluctuated between injury and
anger, either of which I could do nothing about except to
accept on the particular day which one or the other of them
manifested itself. It was more difficult to cope with when
the two of them--like the zany creatures in Doctor Seuss’ Cat
in the Hat–played roller ball in my brain.
It was something of an anomaly that she and I were seated
at the same table. Obviously, neither of us had known that
the other would be there. I arrived at the table with Paul. We
chanced to meet outside the Faculty Dining Room. Dr Thantos
joined us when we were already at the table, so did Dr.
Winston. Then Annette came. I don’t think she would have
chosen the table if she had seen me. I was somewhat off to
the side, hidden from view by a very wide column. But once
she committed to the table, she could not withdraw without
some obvious confusion since several acceptable members of
the department were seated there.
Annette stopped eating-chewing rabbit-like on a piece of
lettuce-and with a minimum of lip movement said, “If you
mean by our individual histories, I agree.”
Before Bruce could respond, Paul offered, “There’s also the
Jungian collective unconscious.”
Bruce smiled the way I had seen large dogs smile when
they had got what they wanted. “Haunted by–let’s say-creatures
of the unknown,” he said.
I speared a piece of Swiss cheese and brought it to my
mouth.
Bruce looked particularly professional. We were his students,
and he continued with, “A good part of the world’s
population believes in a spirit world existing parallel to our
own.”
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